What is Success?

I had a very interesting inquiry come through my website this week. 

A budding film student reached out and asked me if I was ever in a film called Prodigies.

I said, “Why yes. Yes I was. My freshman year of college, when I was 18.” 

We began a dialogue. Seems he found a VHS copy of Prodigies at a thrift store in Chicago, really liked the film, and wondered what happened to the people who made it. Prodigies was a short film shot by my good friend Marco Fargnoli (my first roommate in Chicago after college) about a couple of high school kids (myself and Mark Bateman) who build a time machine and send Teddy Ruxpin back in time. It was my very first experience being on camera. I had a lot of fun, and I’m still friends with Marco and Bateman. In fact, I called Marco today, told him the story, and caught up with him. Marco has gone on to have quite a career as a cinematographer and director. Check him out on IMDB). 

The film student asked me whether the director of Prodigies, Paul Wagner, had done anything else. Then he asked a question that resonated with me: “Any lessons to learn about why some succeed and some don’t?”

I haven’t talked to Paul Wagner since college. He’s not on social media. He wound up marrying a girl I dated for a bit in college. After Prodigies, I never reached back out to see how he was doing. He was a special director. He had great vision, and his movies were really good. But he never made another movie, as far as I know. 

My response to the film student: “Well, what’s your definition of success?”

Here’s the thing: When I was in college, I truly believed that I was going to be an actor, and only an actor. I would make my living from it, and anything short of that would be giving up or selling out. A failure. In my acting program, it was drilled into me that you have to be dedicated. You have to give everything to your art in order to succeed. Anything short of that, and you wouldn’t “make it.” 

I don’t think I changed this way of thinking until after I turned 50. 

I’m not joking. 

But what is “making it”? I’ve had some incredible moments in my career. Moments that some actors will never experience in their lifetime: a Jeff Award; working with Matt Damon and Steven Soderbergh; TV and film work; playing Harold Hill to a house of 1,800 people with a full 31-piece orchestra; founding and running Route 66 Theatre Company for 10 years; producing shows in L.A., Chicago, and New York City off-Broadway. 

Sounds like I’m boasting, but throughout my entire career, even with some incredible highs, I don’t know that I ever felt like I “made it.” I was working and trying to find more work. That’s what actors do. And of course there are all the roles I didn’t get, the sting of endless auditions and rejections, and folding Route 66 Theatre Company.

I held on to Route 66 because of this notion of “success”—and more importantly, failure. When I finally let go in the fall of 2019 (excellent timing, as Covid spelled the end of many theater companies in 2020), there was no press release, no social media post, no emails to anyone. I just quietly folded it and walked away. 

But after I did, so many other doors opened up for me: my book, my acting studio, other work. It’s funny how letting go of a dream gave me so many other possibilities. 

I miss Route 66, but only in the way I was able to collaborate with artists on projects I really believed in. I don’t miss the day to day. The absolute begging for money to produce a single show; dealing with Actors’ Equity (who treated me like a shady producer trying to take money from Equity actors); the endless paperwork. Those who are still running theaters know the pain. 

So, with all that said: Would this film student consider me a success, or a failure? 

Personally, I don’t see my career as success or failure any more. Or, more accurately, I don’t define success by the same outcomes I used to. I see other things besides “making it” as success: my beautiful wife and family, the people I get to help in my day job, the pilot and treatment that I just finished and sent out into the world. 

Maybe this film student is too young to see the forest for the trees yet. But I hope he does, someday. I hope he finds success in his day-to-day life and not only in the outcome of auditions, the number of gigs he books, or the credits on his IMDB page.

I, for one, am looking forward to the second chapter of my career—whatever it turns out to be.